


a forever kind of thing

by sodelicate



Series: your voice in my dreams (soulmates AU) [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, akaashi's celebrity crush on bo but with a SOULMATES TWIST, spoilers for hq chapters 331 and 332
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 04:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodelicate/pseuds/sodelicate
Summary: "And that’s how it is with them. Bokuto needs Akaashi, and Akaashi is more than happy to deliver.That gets switched around, and suddenly Akaashi is the one needing Bokuto."In which Akaashi tries so very hard to keep up a facade, only for it to be barreled down by the force of nature known as his soulmate, one Bokuto Koutarou.





	a forever kind of thing

**Author's Note:**

> someone on [tumblr](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/post/181296148302/how-about-bokuaka-with-akaashis-celebrity-crush) requested for BokuAka with Akaashi's celebrity crush on Bokuto, because everyone is still dying over chapters 331 and 332 (same though), so I decided to use it as an excuse to finally finish the BokuAka soulmates AU I had been procrastinating for a month.
> 
> anyway, please enjoy! :D

_“Hey hey hey! That was an awesome straight, huh, huh? Tell me that was awesome, man! Tell me—”_

The tone of his phone’s alarm cuts off the exclamation in his dream. Akaashi groans, grabbing his pillow and stuffing his head under it in an attempt to muffle out the dying vestiges of his soulmate’s voice. He finds that this doesn’t quite work, because his soulmate’s voice remains stuck in his head like a particularly aggravating earworm.

 _This is ridiculous,_  he gripes to himself as he gets dressed for school. The odds of hearing your soulmate in your dreams on any night is low, so he’s pretty sure hearing his soulmate in his dreams _five_ nights in a row has to be new levels of ludicrous. Most of the time, he only hears that loud booming voice thrice in two weeks. Sometimes he can even go a whole month without hearing his soulmate at all. But lately, he’s been hearing his soulmate’s voice rather frequently. As in, five-nights-in-a-row kind of frequently. He isn’t sure what to make of this.

Some nights, such as last night, his soulmate would be exuberantly praising himself and his apparent teammates. He’d be crowing about his awesome “straights” (which gives Akaashi reason to suspect that his soulmate must be an athlete, since his distinctly male-sounding soulmate shouldn’t be any form of straight, if you get his drift), loudly cheering his teammates and generally hyping everything up. About 99.9% of the time, his cheers would be accompanied by what Akaashi has to come to recognise as his trademark  _“HEY HEY HEY”_. When waking up from dreams such as those, Akaashi feels simultaneously pumped up and drained of every ounce of energy he is, however the heck that’s supposed to work.

Akaashi shakes his head. That was last night, and last night’s business remains as last night’s business. He has to focus on what’s coming today. Which, admittedly, isn’t much. He just has some classes (Japanese Lit, Math, Chemistry and Advanced Math, he believes), and after that is volleyball. Volleyball—well, he  _would_  say it would be the highlight of his day. Don’t get him wrong—he enjoys volleyball. It’s a fun sport; it trains his body and mind and helps him blow off steam when he’s particularly stressed. He always does his best, because that’s what he’s been brought up to do and he is a good boy.

However, what he finds is lacking is an additional push to help truly light up his passion for the sport. His teammates are indifferently neutral about volleyball. They don’t hate or love the sport; they just show up for practice and matches so they can put the fact that they were in a sports team on their high school application forms. They aren’t difficult to work with—they listen to instructions and don’t slack off—but their true motivation for volleyball is lacking. And awakening his passion for volleyball is difficult in an insipid environment like that is a difficult task.

Akaashi doesn’t see that he has much of a choice, though. This is his junior high team, for better or for worse. He’s just going to have to settle for what he has now, even if he doesn’t like it. He has also been brought up to accept the way things are and not to make amendments where they are not needed.

But when Akaashi drops by the city gymnasium with a friend to watch the high school matches, he realises how much he has been missing out on by settling for second-best.

 

* * *

 

Akaashi honestly wasn’t expecting much when he decided to drop by the city gymnasium on a whim with his friend.

But then he sees the big, tall and  _mighty_  looking boy leap up and spike the ball with a typhoon-like amount of strength—and all that’s on Akaashi’s mind is,  _He HAS to be a star._

Now, the thing you must know about Akaashi Keiji is that he’s been brought up to be polite to an absolute fault. And one crucial facet of being polite to a fault is that one does not stare at someone, especially in such an indiscreet manner.

But Akaashi can’t help it. He is utterly entranced by the white-haired high school star, like a snake by a snake charmer. In that moment, he forgets his upbringing, his parents’ nagging, his genteel disposition, and simply lets himself get swept away by the sight of this star player.

When the star lands the attack, Akaashi applauds along with everyone else. How can he not? The boy completely blasted past the blockers like a canon.

Then—he hears it.

The star player lets out a victorious hoot, and Akaashi’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat.

_That voice._

Holy shit. That  _voice_. It’s like a blast of ice water to his face, because he  _knows_  that voice. He’s been hearing that voice in his dreams for the past consecutive five nights, after all. And besides, that voice isn’t one that’s easily forgettable. It sticks to your brain in the manner an earworm of a particularly catchy pop song might.

The memory of this morning’s irritation melts away. He can’t stay annoyed at his soulmate (who, according to the other spectators, is named Bokuto Koutarou) for keeping him up at night anymore, because his soulmate is a  _star_. He’s absolutely brilliant. Akaashi’s heart feels like it’s both swooping like an eagle and tumbling downwards like a meteorite at the same time, which shocks himself. He didn’t know he was capable of such feelings, considering how he’s always kept his emotions under tight wraps.

Kaito—the friend who invited him along to the city gym—must have noticed his starstruck expression. He leans in with a concerned look. “Yo, Akaashi, you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

Akaashi’s cheeks heat up ever so slightly, despite his willing them not to. “That's… that guy on the court, the one who just landed the spike—he’s my soulmate,” he whispers, his throat hoarse.

“Wait, you’re saying your soulmate’s a  _dude_?” Kaito raises his eyebrows like Akaashi just said something preposterous.

“Yes. It’s not that uncommon. Same-sex soulmates make up about 12% of the population, Kaito.”

At least Kaito has the decency to appear somewhat abashed. “Ah, yes, I was just—surprised. Never mind that. Dude, you should totally go and introduce yourself to him.”

The idea suddenly makes Akaashi go weak in the knees, for reasons he can’t explain. His already-hoarse throat feels even more like it’s covered with sandpaper, and his stomach does a funny dance. “I—no, I believe that wouldn’t be a wise idea. Just—no. I can’t.”

“But you totally should! He’s your  _soulmate_. Your one and only, your  _forever_.”

“I know that,” Akaashi says stiffly.

“Exactly!” Kaito thumps Akaashi on the back with an unnecessary amount of force, in his humble opinion. “If I met  _my_  soulmate, I’d wanna go and introduce myself post-haste. This is a forever kind of thing, my man, so square those pretty shoulders of yours and go talk to him.”

Akaashi eyes the point board. “I don’t think that would be necessary, Kaito.”

“Dude, I’m telling you—”

“He goes to Fukurodani,” Akaashi interrupts, a rarity for him. “And I’m planning on enrolling in Fukurodani too, since I did receive a recommendation for them. All I’ll have to do is join the team and be the setter, and things will just happen in its natural course. There’s no need to unnecessarily shift the tides.”

Kaito is still staring at him like he just belted out a stream of profanities. “But… but if you’re gonna enroll in Fukurodani  _anyway_ , then why not introduce yourself first? You could get a rapport going before your high school life officially starts—how awesome would that be?”

Akaashi glances away. “I’d rather not rehash my reasons. The second set is starting, and I would like to watch it in peace, please.”

Kaito huffs but stops pestering Akaashi about talking to his soulmate. Occasionally, he would nudge Akaashi and tease him—“Aha, that’s your man going in for the kill! What a dude! The man, the myth, the legend!”—but Akaashi pays him no mind.

Akaashi can’t take his eyes off Bokuto Koutarou, after all.

 

* * *

 

He spends the next few days keeping to himself and just—well, he has a lot to think about.

For one, the fact that he heard his soulmate’s voice in his dreams for five days in a row last week. That  _had_  to be a sign that he was going to meet his soulmate. The fates were pointing him to Bokuto Koutarou—how did he not realise it earlier?

For two, from the night he saw his soulmate up until last night, he didn’t hear his soulmate’s voice at all. His dreams were a blank canvas. He didn’t know whether he wanted to be relieved at being able to get a decent night’s sleep or concerned at the sudden absence of the boisterous cheering.

For three, when he  _finally_  heard Bokuto Koutarou’s voice again last night, it was a complete 180 flip from what he normally said.

_“I’m so sorry, guys. I—I let you down in the second set. Their blocks caught me and I couldn’t—and you guys had to carry me because I’m so weak and pathetic. I’m really sorry.”_

Just thinking about it makes Akaashi’s heart clench and his throat close up with an overflowing amount of emotion he didn’t know he was capable of. His soulmate is a star, and stars shouldn’t sound so downtrodden, so beaten-down by the weight of their strength. The thing is, Akaashi hasn’t even met this guy—like, officially—but he already knows he would give up anything to hear the usual Bokuto Koutarou, the Bokuto Koutarou who is bright and energetic and armed with an abundance with confidence. Scale every mountain, traverse all seven seas, he would do it all for his soulmate.

(Goddammit, he’s in so deep already and he hasn’t even spoken to the guy yet.)

However, Akaashi is also a person who is grounded in reality. He knows, realistically, that it would be rather difficult for him to scale every mountain and cross all seven seas for his soulmate.

But what he  _can_  do is come up with ways to help Bokuto Koutarou relocate his light when the difficulties have beaten it down into the ground.

Akaashi begins making mental lists of how to cheer his soulmate up based on the information his dreams have supplied him with. It’s not easy, considering how sporadically Bokuto Koutarou’s voice makes its appearance in his dreams. But when Akaashi is able to catch his voice, he never lets go of it. He trains his mind to retain Bokuto’s voice and what he said, so then when he’s awake he can add it to his mental list and from there craft strategies.

(Sometimes, Akaashi wishes he’s one of those people whose dreams tell him what his soulmate says in the future. Most of the time, the things one’s soulmate says are things they said in the recent past, but a tiny population have dreams that can go into the future. That would be extremely useful for Akaashi’s list-making, so that he can prepare ahead. But oh well, he’ll just have to make do with what he has.)

Amidst all this list-making and information-retaining, Akaashi has to wonder…

_What does he hear in his dreams?_

 

* * *

 

Akaashi’s heart slams against his ribs like a battering ram. There  _he_  is: Bokuto Koutarou, looking as brilliant and handsome as Akaashi remembers. Bokuto’s golden eyes watch him with a keen interest, and sweat covers Akaashi’s palms in thick gross layers. His soulmate. He’s right there. Yes, Akaashi has been secretly looking forward to this for several months now; but now that he’s  _actually_  here, and he’s  _actually_ joined his soulmate’s volleyball team, his nerves can’t help but go into overdrive.

But Akaashi has also been brought up to keep his emotions strictly under wraps, so when the coach calls the first-years to introduce himself he walks with practised poise to the front of the gym.

“I am Akaashi Keiji from Mori Middle School,” he says. “I played setter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

There’s a small smattering of murmurs among the senpai, then the next person in line introduces himself. Akaashi lets out a small breath he didn’t know he was even holding. He did it. He introduced himself to everyone—to his _soulmate_ —without messing up.

(If he had been paying attention instead of focusing on keeping his composure, he would’ve noticed a certain Bokuto Koutarou’s eyes lighting up.)

What happens later—well, nothing could’ve prepared Akaashi for that, for he is about to be thrown for a massive loop.

Akaashi’s busy moping the floor like the good kouhai he is, when he hears  _his_  voice.

“Hey, uh, Akashi-kun?”

It’s like someone dumped a tray of ice cubes down the back of Akaashi’s shirt. He takes a deep breath to steel himself—because,  _holy shit Bokuto Koutarou is talking to him_ —and he turns to address Bokuto. “It’s Akaashi.” He makes sure to emphasise the double a’s. Many people make the same mistake upon first meeting him, but for some reason he can’t find it in himself to be miffed at Bokuto Koutarou.

A wide smile splits across Bokuto’s face. It’s blinding the way staring directly at the sun is blinding. “Ha, I thought I recognised your voice! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?”

“It would seem so.” _Do not mess this up, Keiji._

(Akaashi’s actual choice of word is less polite than ‘mess’.)

“That’s great!” Bokuto crows, his eyes lighting up. “I’ve been waiting for  _ever_  to meet you. A lot of my friends have met theirs already, so I was getting impatient waiting for you. Not that I’m blaming you, of course! None of this is your fault. It’s just—fate, I guess. Yeah, it was totally fate just making us wait! But what matters now is that we’ve finally met, hey hey hey!”

“Yes, it would seem so,” Akaashi mumbles. He hates that he’s practically repeating what he’s saying, but for the life of him he can’t think of anything else to say to Bokuto, his soulmate, the star that stole Akaashi’s breath and heart at the city gymnasium.

A small silence lapses between them before Bokuto breaks it. He fiddles with his fingers as if he’s nervous, and then he blurts out, “Could you please help me practise spikes for just a little bit?”

Akaashi nods, despite being worn-out from the earlier practice. He  _is_  a setter, after all; it’s his job to help spikers practise. And all the more better that this spiker in question is his soulmate.

Besides, Bokuto just wants a bit of practice. It shouldn’t be that tiring. With that in mind, Akaashi dutifully follows Bokuto to the center of the gym.

 

* * *

 

Goddammit. Why did his dreams never tell him about Bokuto’s definition of ‘a little bit’?

After nearly an hour of spiking practice, Akaashi’s knees feel like they might give out beneath him. He bends over, breathing heavily and wishing nothing more than to be at home right now, tucked in bed and asleep.

“Hey Akashi!” Bokuto exclaims.  _He_ certainly doesn’t sound drained from an additional hour of spiking practice, Akaashi gripes to himself.

“It’s Akaashi…” he mutters.

But he looks up, because it’s the polite thing to do, and boy is he glad he did. Because in that same heartbeat, Bokuto has the most dazzling and genuine smile on his face. He freezes Akaashi in place with the warmth radiating from his smile.

“Your tosses are the best!”

There’s this warmth that starts somewhere in the vicinity of Akaashi’s heart, and it spreads all over him—down to his core and up to his face, where it kindles a small but blazing fire.

In his entire career of being setter on his middle school team, he was never praised so directly. On the scale of individualism to collectivism, the Mori boys’ team fell more on the collectivist side; his individual work was criticised for the betterment of the whole team, and it was always either everyone got praised as a team or none at all. While he acknowledges that collectivism can have its strengths, he also finds that he quite likes being praised as an individual,  _and_  so point-blank too.

“Ah, sure,” he says, glancing away before his retinas burn from the sight of Bokuto’s smile.

“Could you sound a little more fired up, Akas— _Akaashi_?”

Akaashi bites back a smile. “Come on, Bokuto-san, let’s practise some more.”

After another half an hour of spiking practice, Bokuto offers to walk Akaashi home. Akaashi tries to tell him that it wouldn’t be necessary—he wouldn’t want to take up too much of Bokuto-san’s time, and the station is good enough for him, but Bokuto insists. And when Bokuto insists, Akaashi realises it’s highly difficult to say ‘no’.

So here they are, strolling down the streets of Tokyo and talking. Akaashi takes a delicate lick of the ice cream Bokuto bought for him—“A treat for helping me practise!”—as he listens to Bokuto describe his random hobbies.

“The other guys like to make fun of me for collecting owl plushies.” Bokuto pouts. “But I can’t help it—they’re so cute, it’s like they’re begging me to buy them and free them from the store.”

“I see.” Akaashi bites the inside of his cheeks. The mental image of Bokuto—tall, muscular and strapping Bokuto—cuddling with a veritable mountain of owl plushies is too cute, but he’d never tell. “I don’t believe there is any problem with Bokuto-san wanting to collect owl plushie toys.”

“Thanks, Akashi—I mean, Akaashi!” Bokuto hastily corrects himself and shoots Akaashi a lopsided grin. Akaashi’s trying to decide which one is more attractive: the blinding brilliant smile or the cheeky lopsided grin. “And it’s fun because—well, there are more  _bear_  plushies than owl plushies, so it’s a fun challenge. I especially like the tiny ones. They’re so cute! And hugging them makes me feel really strong and protective, y’know?”

Bokuto continues rambling about the joys of owl plushies, and Akaashi—despite his parents’ comprehensive lessons about proper manners—finds himself zoning out and meandering in his own thoughts.

Don’t get Akaashi wrong. He  _is_  enjoying learning these random little facts about his soulmate—they help to paint a more complete image of him and fill in the gaps that his dreams have left—but what he  _really_  wants to know is why Bokuto can sound like he’s on top of the world in most of Akaashi’s dreams, then suddenly like he wants nothing more than to hide in a ditch in the following one.

_Why are you so full of self-praise in one moment and self-loathing in the next?_

_Do you have some insecurity you’re keeping carefully hidden away?_

_What can I do to help you?_

There are a plethora of questions he has for Bokuto, ranging from wondering about his apparent insecurity to wanting to know if he’s what Bokuto expected him to be, but he doesn’t think it would be polite to bombard Bokuto with all of them. So instead he nods and makes general noncommittal responses during the small moments of silence between Bokuto’s constant train of speech.

Soon, too soon, they arrive outside Akaashi’s apartment complex.

“Thank you for going through all the trouble to walk me home, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says primly.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Bokuto replies with an ever-present grin that strikes a roaring fire in his eyes. “I had fun! It’s been a while I’ve had someone listen to me talk about my owl plushies and not make fun of me. And—hey, you’re really cute, Akaashi.”

Akaashi blinks. Where… where did  _that_  come from? It’s like Bokuto has a whole bunch of different channels of thought and he’s constantly switching between all of them. Here’s yet another thing the voice in his dreams didn’t prepare him for.

“Oh. Bokuto-san flatters me too much.”

“Nonsense! It isn’t possible to flatter someone like you too much. Like, you’re an awesome setter, you’re a great listener, and you’re really freaking pretty. I just…” A new expression blankets Bokuto’s features. It’s warm, tender and so many other things that Akaashi’s vocabulary is struggling to find the words to describe. Bokuto keeps throwing Akaashi for a loop; who knew someone so boisterous could manage such a tender expression? “I just really like you, Akaashi!”

Akaashi has to blink again. He knows they  _are_  soulmates, but to think Bokuto would reveal his feelings so soon?

Bokuto seems to read something in Akaashi’s expression, because his smile crumbles. “Oh… was that—was I jumping the gun? Is it too soon for that? Ahh, I didn’t mean to scare you with my feelings! I know we just met today and we still don’t know each other all that much, so I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry…”

And there’s that expression. Even though Akaashi has just officially met Bokuto, he can match Bokuto’s current expression to the dejected voice in his dreams. Akaashi quickly scans through his mental lists, sifting through all the different strategies he’s come up with to help Bokuto when he’s down.

Finally, he settles on #04-A. Hesitantly, as he’s never been one to initiate contact, he reaches out to touch Bokuto’s bicep, light as feather. Huh, now  _that’s_  one solid bicep. 

“Please don’t apologise, Bokuto-san. I am actually quite flattered you think so.”

 “Really? You… you really don’t mind?”

Akaashi allows himself a small smile. “That’s correct, Bokuto-san.”

Slowly, the crumbled pieces of Bokuto’s previous smile put themselves back together. He tosses his head back and belts out a raucous bout of laughter. “Well, if you say so, ‘Kaashi!”

They stand there in front of the apartment complex for a few more breaths before Akaashi softly clears his throat. “Thank you, once again, for walking me home, Bokuto-san. It’s getting late, so Bokuto-san should be heading home now. Have a good night.”

Just as Akaashi turns around to head inside the building, he feels a pair of strong arms, thick as tree trunks, wrap around his chest and a head fall on his shoulder. The hold is tight and secure, but not domineering. Akaashi lets himself relax in Bokuto’s arms, despite his parents’ reminders about PDA being socially unacceptable. Maybe… maybe he doesn’t have to work so hard to appear socially acceptable when he’s around Bokuto. Bokuto certainly doesn’t seem like he cares all that much, if his sudden hugging and boisterousness is anything to go by.

“Goodnight, Akaashi,” Bokuto murmurs in a surprisingly soft voice. His breath fans Akaashi’s neck, and Akaashi shivers ever so slightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for volleyball?”

Akaashi tries to remember how to form words. “Y-yes, Bokuto-san will.”

The warmth pulls itself away from him. Akaashi hears Bokuto takes several steps back away from him and cheerily say, “Okay! See you, Akaashi!”

Akaashi turns his head to watch as Bokuto chases a flock of pigeons down the street and back to the train station. He stays there, watching as Bokuto’s outline gradually shrinks, until he completely disappears.

Akaashi lightly grazes his fingers over where Bokuto held him. They’ve only known each other for less than a day, yet he already misses his soulmate and his warmth.

 

* * *

 

Just like it always does, time goes on. Slowly and without him realising it, Akaashi starts spending more and more time with Bokuto, both in and out of practice.

During practice, Bokuto latches onto Akaashi and constantly begs for tosses—unless he gets into a slump, which happens on occasion. Akaashi mostly plays it by ear, but over time he figures out different ways to keep Bokuto from going into a slump (as much as possible), as well as ways to pull him out of his slump.

Even though it  _is_  difficult to deal with Bokuto when he’s down in the dumps (Akaashi won’t lie), it doesn’t change a thing about how Akaashi views him. If anything, it only increases his admiration. Bokuto is the kind of guy who’s always giving his all in everything—when his spirits are high, he lifts the whole team up with his energy and basically becomes their ‘hype-man’, as the managers have taken to calling him. This is even more so when he’s in a slump, because you know that eventually and no matter how long it takes, Bokuto  _will_ bounce back. He always does, and that’s what makes him the Ace in Akaashi’s eyes.

Akaashi doesn’t protest when he’s made Bokuto’s vice-captain in his second year, even though it is rare for a second-year to take a leadership position, especially in a sports club. The third-years, surprisingly, have no objections to this arrangement.

“Better you than me, my friend,” Konoha tells him with a clap on his shoulder. “You’re his soulmate, so you know Bo best. And he listens to you the most.”

(If he’s being honest, Akaashi believes it’s simply because the other third-years would rather not deal directly with Bokuto when he’s in his ‘low’s as much as they could. But he doesn’t mind this; there is something extremely rewarding about helping Bokuto regain his footing and watching him soar.)

(It’s probably the smile that makes its appearance when he lands a nice kill after a slump.)

(Goddammit, Akaashi is in so deep it’s not even funny.)

Even outside of volleyball, Akaashi doesn’t realise how much time he’s spending with Bokuto until his friends point it out.

“Dude, we barely see you anymore outside of class,” Takahashi points out to him. “The moment the bell rings, you’re out of here like  _zip_. Don’t you ever get sick of spending so much time with your soulmate?”

Akaashi frowns. “Why would I?”

He leaves it at that. He sees no reason to explain himself to someone who just doesn’t get how amazing Bokuto is.

This point gets hammered in when, out of the blue, Bokuto’s renowned cross spikes keep incessantly getting blocked by opponents. Maybe they’ve just caught on to Bokuto’s tricks and have adapted to him. Maybe their blocking game has levelled up.

(Akaashi refuses to pin any of the blame on Bokuto. He won’t, because Bokuto doesn’t deserve it.)

Whatever it is, it clearly is taking a toll on Bokuto’s confidence. With each time he gets blocked, Akaashi can see the strength and conviction behind Bokuto’s attacks wearing down.

When Bokuto gets blocked yet again during a match against Kawahori High, Akaashi can only watch as frustration and despair make themselves home in Bokuto’s entire demeanour. He wishes he knew what to do. But he’s never encountered anything quite like this before. Most of the time, Bokuto’s low moments can be attributed to him having bad days for whatever reasons. Which, Akaashi supposes, is reasonable. Everyone has off days that cause them to suddenly be unable to do what they normally excel at.

However, Bokuto normally snaps out of them pretty quickly. Sometimes it would take some prodding and encouragement from the team and managers, and then Bokuto would be as right as day.

Akaashi has never encountered such a persistent Bokuto-‘low’ before.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto wails while the opponents are busy cheering their successful block. Akaashi steels himself up, mentally preparing himself and his lists to deal with Bokuto’s current crisis even if he’s out of ideas now. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong! I keep getting blocked when I try to do my crosses! It’s the same thing no matter what I do! What should I do?”

Suddenly, it’s like a half-lit lightbulb has fallen and hit Akaashi on the head. “Perhaps you can try… changing things up?”

_But how? When Bokuto-san gets fixated on one thing—which, in this case, is trying to do crosses successfully—he forgets how to do anything else._

However, to Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto’s eyes gleam with understanding. “Alright, cool! Thanks, Akaashi! You’re the best!”

Akaashi doesn’t know what he did right or what Bokuto has understood about his suggestion that he himself doesn’t get. Oh well, he’ll just have to wait and see. He crosses his fingers, praying for a miracle. Or maybe just a lucky shot. At this point, Akaashi will take any point they can get to prevent Kawahori from closing up the gap anymore.

The opposing team gets the next serve. Komi dives to save it, and he sends it in a neat arc to Akaashi. Akaashi positions himself under the ball, his hands poised and his eyes examining his teammates. He only has a split second to decide who he wants to toss to. There are four attackers he can use (well, five, if he counts his dump shot), and three out of four of them have not gotten consistently blocked during the set. They might not have Bokuto’s raw power, but they haven’t gotten caught as much by the blocks, so it makes sense to toss to them and shake things up a bit—

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yells. “Toss to me!”

Akaashi obeys. With a shout of “Bokuto-san”, he tosses the ball right where Bokuto is hanging in mid-air. Just as Bokuto hits the ball, the opposing blockers leap up with their arms outstretched. The ball ricochets off the wall, and the shock is painted clear as day on Bokuto’s face. Luckily, Komi is there to save the ball again. It flies to Akaashi, and here he is again with another split second to make a decision. At this point, maybe he should really consider tossing to someone else. What makes him think that doing the same thing over and over again will yield different results? As Einstein said, it’s madness.

Just as his fingertips touch the ball, Bokuto’s eyes lock onto his. He doesn’t yell for the toss, but somehow his eyes say it all for him. Something in his eyes—perhaps a fresh idea, perhaps a new resolve—moves something in Akaashi. He can’t say no to eyes like that.

“Bokuto-san!” With that, he sends the ball flying to the Ace, praying to the fates for something like a miracle.

And somehow, the fates listen to him. Or maybe it’s Bokuto’s strength as the Ace. Whatever it is, Bokuto slams down such a quick and powerful straight shot that none of the opponents could ever stand a chance of even touching.

For a heartbeat, everything is silent. In that heartbeat, everyone just watches as the ball bounces off the squeaky gym floor and tumbles out of the boundary.

Then he makes eye contact with Bokuto again, and his mind whispers,  _No matter what other people may say, no matter what blocks get us or what obstacles life throws at us, he is—no, WE are the stars of the universe._

The heartbeat passes, and the gym is filled to the brim with noise. Akaashi isn’t sure who took the first step, but he and Bokuto meet in the middle for a double high-five. If it weren’t for the fact that they’re very much in public right now, Akaashi might have kissed him here and now.

As he watches Bokuto cheer with the rest of the team, a quick fleeting thought flits through his mind.

_I am glad I could be at Fukurodani._

 

* * *

 

Akaashi is having a quiet dreamless sleep when out of nowhere, Bokuto’s voice pops up. Akaashi jolts, but through sheer force of will manages to stay asleep. He lies as still as a statue, listening to what Bokuto has to say this time.

_“I’m sorry… I’ll work harder next time, promise…”_

There’s a small pause, presumably in which someone else is talking.

_“I know, I know. I know I’m not really good at much other than volleyball, but I’m trying, mom.”_

_“Oh, sorry… yeah, I know, just trying isn’t good enough…”_

Akaashi’s heart practically folds in on itself. Sure, it’s not like he’s never heard Bokuto sad and dejected before, but this—this is different. Previously, when Akaashi heard Bokuto down in the dumps, it would mostly be about volleyball. He’s never heard Bokuto get dejected at the hands of his family before.

Come to think of, Akaashi has never heard of Bokuto even talk about his family before.

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, there’s an odd buzzing sensation. Akaashi recognises it; he usually gets it when he’s dreaming of Bokuto’s voice and Bokuto just so happens to be awake. Akaashi—having heard enough—yanks himself out of the dream, sits up in bed and grabs his phone. He has Bokuto's phone number in his 'favourites' list, so it doesn't take him long to find Bokuto's name in the list. He presses it and holds the phone to his ear. Exactly three and a half rings pass before Bokuto picks up.

“Hey hey hey, Akaashi!” Bokuto crows from the other end. However, Akaashi hears something oddly choked up in his voice, like he has something stuck in his throat. And, if he listens carefully, he can detect the sound of cars whooshing by in the background. “What’s up?”

“Bokuto-san is not at home right now, right?” Akaashi, always straight to the point, asks.

“Damn, how did you know?”

In the privacy of his dim bedroom, Akaashi allows himself a smile to stretch fully across his face. “I can hear the sounds of the street in the background. Where are you?”

“At a park near school. Why?”

“Stay there. I’ll come and meet you.”

There’s a crashing and fumbling sound on the other end. “Ah, you don’t have to! It’s, like, midnight. And there’s school tomorrow; you gotta get your beauty sleep so you’ll wake up nice and pretty tomorrow—not that I’m saying you’re not pretty! You are, and even lost sleep won’t change that. It’s just…”

Akaashi sits there, amusedly listening to Bokuto trip over his words in his embarrassment. Once Bokuto concludes his rambling (“You are the prettiest soulmate ever!!!”), Akaashi speaks again.

“Regardless of that, I’m still coming to meet you, Bokuto-san. Please wait patiently for me, I promise I won’t take long.”

Akaashi hangs up before Bokuto can protest anymore. He gets out of bed, pulls on a shirt over his sweatpants and grabs a shopping bag sitting by his desk. It’s about time he put his emergency supplies to good use.

 

* * *

 

“You actually came,” Bokuto says, sounding awed. He’s dressed in a simple tank top (Akaashi feels himself blush at the distinct lack of sleeves) and shorts, and his normally styled-up hair is now flopping over his face. Akaashi pauses to admire his appearance. It’s not often he gets to see Bokuto with his hair down—it’s like uncovering a rare gem.

“I said I would.” Akaashi gracefully takes the spot next to Bokuto on the park bench, then holds out the shopping bag to Bokuto. “This is for you. I thought it might cheer you up.”

“Aww, Akaashi! You didn’t have to!”

But Bokuto’s eyes sparkle with a light that wasn’t there previously as he takes the shopping bag from Akaashi’s hands and takes a peek inside. He gasps. “Oh my—that’s  _so_ cute, Akaashi! Where’d you get it from?”

“Just some store from the mall near school,” Akaashi mumbles. He doesn’t want to tell Bokuto the exact location, since it’s supposed to be a gift. “Why don’t you take it out?”

Bokuto, with a surprising amount of gingerness, extricates the small owl plushie from the bag. It’s so tiny it can fit snugly in Akaashi’s palm. He watches Bokuto coo at the plushie and turn it round and round in his hands to examine it from every angle possible. A flood of warm emotions fill him like he’s just had a nice warm sip of hot cocoa, and for once in public, he lets himself show a soft open smile. Bokuto’s happiness is worth that smile.

“This is really cute, Akaashi!” Bokuto exclaims, grinning like a child on Christmas morning. “It’s exactly what I needed right now! How did you know?”

Akaashi keeps his eyes focused on Bokuto’s face to examine his expression as he replies carefully, “I heard your voice in my dream earlier. You sounded… you didn’t sound happy.”

“Oh. It’s just my mom. She—she’s always like that, that’s all.”

“And what exactly is ‘that’, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto heaves out a heavy sigh. His earlier grin is starting to slope downwards, and Akaashi hopes he hasn’t done something wrong like reopen an old wound. “It’s just—my parents. Whenever I did well, like when I became one of the top five Aces in the country or I got an ‘A’ on a test, they would heap praise upon praise on me. Sometimes they’d even take me out to eat at my favourite place or buy me more plushies. It’s really nice! They make me feel really good about myself.”

“But there’s more, isn’t there?” Akaashi prompts.

“Well… yeah. On the flip side when I don’t do well, or at least not up to their expectations, they would get… really harsh.” Bokuto winces, as if a painful memory has come to mind. “But I get it, y’know? Like, since I did so well last time on my math test I should try and maintain that streak, right? But I failed this time ‘round, and really badly too, so I understand why they’re disappointed with me. They say if I fail another time, I’d have to step down from being Captain.”

“Oh, that’s terrible. I—I’m so sorry, Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi lets it hang there. Honestly, try as he might, this isn’t exactly his forte. Being this emotionally vulnerable with anyone—even if he’s not the one baring his heart, being on the receiving end is… strange. His parents definitely aren’t this open with him about anything, and he’s never felt close enough to them to be able to confide in them like this.

But just because this isn’t his strength doesn’t mean he won’t at least try for Bokuto’s sake. He’s his soulmate, after all. Akaashi can’t just sit by and watch as Bokuto mopes around thinking he’s dumb and useless when he’s not—he’s the furthest thing from dumb and useless that Akaashi has ever met.

Just as Akaashi’s racking his brains for the precise words to use, Bokuto shifts closer to him and takes his hand. Akaashi jolts like he’s been tasered.

“Bokuto-san? What…?”

“You don’t have to, Akaashi,” Bokuto says softly. He rests his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. The weight sends another jolt right through Akaashi, but the pressure is not unwelcome. In fact, it feels like it’s—well, like it’s meant to be, as clichéd as it may sound.

“I—what?” For such a straightforward guy, sometimes Bokuto goes around in complicated circles of thought that Akaashi is still trying to unpack.

“You were trying to think of something cool and inspirational to say to me all Dumbledore-style, weren’t you?”

Akaashi’s stare practically burns holes into a nearby tree. Damn it, since when is he so easy to read? “Uh, yes. I… I suppose you could say that.”

Bokuto lets go of Akaashi’s hand, only to nearly smother him with a death hug. Bokuto’s owl plushie ends up squashed between Akaashi’s sternum and Bokuto’s forearm. Even though they’ve been together for nearly a year, Akaashi’s face still burns and his heart still batters so hard against his chest he wonders how it hasn’t woken up the whole of Tokyo yet. With careful movements, he reaches up to drape his arm around Bokuto’s shoulders.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Bokuto mumbles against Akaashi’s sleeve. “I’m just glad—really glad—you’re here for me even though you didn’t have to do all this. And you got me that super cute plushie. Thanks for always being here for me, Akaashi—Keiji. Is it cool if I call you Keiji?”

Akaashi blinks. Oh,  _right_. They’ve been together for practically a year, yet they are still on family-name basis. No wonder Bokuto wants to start using given names. Akaashi’s never been on given-name basis with anyone who isn’t family, not even with his closest friends, but… he supposes he can make an exception for Bokuto.

“Yes, that would be fine with me… Koutarou,” Akaashi pronounces, testing the sound of Bokuto’s given name on his tongue.

Bokuto beams up at him. Then he launches himself forward like an excited puppy, knocking Akaashi flat on his back, and captures Akaashi’s lips with his. Akaashi finds himself glad that it’s nighttime and therefore the park is dark and empty, or else his upbringing might have caused him to shove Bokuto off him.

“Thank you,” Bokuto whispers when he pulls away to press his face against the side of Akaashi’s neck. “Thank you for always coming in clutch for me when I need you, Keiji. Please don’t go anywhere.”

Akaashi gently runs his fingers through Bokuto’s soft white hair, feeling a smile bloom on his face. “I’ll always be there for you, so you need not worry about that.”

And that’s how it is with them. Bokuto needs Akaashi, and Akaashi is more than happy to deliver.

That gets switched around, and suddenly Akaashi is the one needing Bokuto.

 

* * *

 

The match against Mujinazaka is possibly the most brutal one Akaashi has ever had in his entire volleyball career. It’s not the first time he’s been intentionally targeted by an opponent—picking on the team setter is a pretty common and sound strategy, after all—but this is the first time it’s actually successful.

His blocked dump shot exacerbates the feeling of despair and uselessness to unbearable levels.

_I can’t lose this. It’s the third-years' last Spring High. It’s the last time we’ll get to play with them. They would be absolutely crushed if their last high school game ended in a loss just because I messed up._

_And it’s the last time I’ll get to play with Koutarou in high school._

_Stop it, Keiji. Don’t let this show on your face. Keep your composure as you always do. Be more like Kageyama or Miya Atsumu._

But just as Akaashi can feel his mind get trapped in the brutal tornado of thoughts, Bokuto reaches out and tugs him out with all the strength an Ace possesses. No, with all the strength  _Bokuto_  possesses. Bokuto,  _the_  only Ace in Akaashi’s eyes. The only one who can read him like he has all his thoughts displayed on his sleeve, and the only one who knows what to do to help him even though this is a brand new hurdle.

And that’s when Akaashi realises it: he’s been trying so hard to appear strong and indomitable for his team, for Bokuto, and take care of all their needs that he’s forgotten to take care of himself.

That’s one hell of a cruel way to learn that lesson, though.

 

* * *

 

On the bus back after the match, when Akaashi is sure everyone else is asleep, he leans in close to Bokuto and presses a light kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you, Koutarou,” he murmurs. He’s finally starting to get used to the ‘DA’ part of PDA, though he still struggles with the ‘P’ part. “How did you know? I was trying so hard not to, you know, break down and show any weakness. How could you tell?”

Bokuto wraps a strong arm around his waist and pulls him so close, Akaashi’s half-draped over Bokuto’s lap. “For the most part, your whole ‘Oh look at me, I’m so stoic and cool’ act is pretty solid. But there are two reasons.”

 _Two?_  Good grief, just how obvious has Akaashi gotten with his feelings?

“One!” Bokuto holds up his index finger. “It’s all in your eyes. You know how they say eyes are the window to the soul? Well, they’re totally right. Normally, your eyes are so clear and bright and pretty. But during the match, it’s like there was this gigantic rain cloud in your eyes or something—ah, I don’t mean that your eyes weren’t pretty during the match, of course! Your eyes are always pretty, it’s just—they looked dark, and the usual brightness wasn’t there. That’s when I realised that something was off.”

“So what’s the second?”

“Two! I heard you comparing yourself to Karasuno’s grouchy setter and that Miya Atsumu fellow in my dreams.”

Akaashi, forgetting his strict upbringing about being dignified at all time, splutters and struggles not to choke on his own spit. “But that was just earlier today—it’s not possible… unless…”

He tilts his head up to stare at Bokuto in wonder. No way, could Bokuto actually…?

Bokuto nods. “Yep, I could tell it was something you said in the future. I don’t know how I knew that—maybe your voice was less HD or something. When I heard you say that, I was really sad. You’re amazing in your own right! You shouldn’t compare yourself to any other setter, ‘cause you’re the best I could ever have. I love you the way you are, Keiji. I wouldn’t change you to be more like Kageyama or Miya. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.” He leans down and kisses Akaashi’s forehead.

Akaashi feels a sting in his eyes. He hastily averts his eyes, afraid that if he looks any longer at Bokuto’s warm smile he might actually start crying. He doesn’t understand why; it’s not like this is the first time Bokuto is praising him. Bokuto has always been very direct about his praise. Yet, this is exactly what he needs to hear, and somehow Bokuto got past Akaashi’s meticulously crafted facade and realised that.

“I love you, I love you, I love you so freaking much, Akaashi Keiji.”

And that does it for Akaashi. A single tear slides in a wobbly path down his face. He’s so worn-out and so mentally beaten down, hearing Bokuto’s soft reassurances feels like falling asleep in a warm bed after a brutally long day. More tears flood out of him, and he lets them fall. He doesn’t have anything he needs to hide around Bokuto; Bokuto knows him too well for that.

“That was—thank you, Koutarou,” Akaashi mumbles as he wipes his tears away. “That was exactly what I needed to hear.” Then another thought strikes him. “Koutarou, what… what do I sound like in your dreams?”

Bokuto absentmindedly combs his fingers through Akaashi’s hair, and Akaashi melts like pudding in Bokuto’s lap (he  _might_ have a thing for having his hair stroked). “You sound so beautiful. So peaceful, so soothing. Hearing your voice after a good day makes it even better and calms me down after a bad one. You were already there for me before we met.”

Akaashi nods and lets silence wrap around them. He doesn’t trust his voice to speak for him before cracking and giving way once more to tears. For the next twenty or so heartbeats—Akaashi keeps track with his head resting on Bokuto’s sturdy chest—they remain quiet. You might be surprised to hear that someone like Bokuto can keep quiet for that long, but Akaashi has long since adapted to Bokuto’s different and unexpected quirks.

“Thank you for always coming in clutch for me when I need you, Koutarou,” Akaashi whispers. “I love you. Please don’t go anywhere. Please.”

Bokuto leans down to kiss him. “I won’t, promise, so don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”

Then Bokuto silences him with a hundred kisses, each more passionate than the last. As Akaashi’s drowning in Bokuto’s gentle passion, he decides that if this truly is a forever kind of thing, he doesn’t quite mind this arrangement.

**Author's Note:**

> this was written right after chapter 332 was a fresh new thing, which was why i sneakily avoided talking about the actual outcome of the match (but Fukurodani _has_ to win and that's the tea).
> 
> ICYMI: Akaashi can lucid dream (or something like that) and Bokuto's dreams can sometimes predict the future. i occasionally lucid dream too, and let me tell you, it is TRIPPY. kudos to Akaashi for being so chill and focused while lucid dreaming.
> 
> hit me with requests on my [tumblr](https://hqissodelicate.tumblr.com/) please, i'm running out of ideas. 
> 
> thanks for reading :D


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